


here, your name; ghost and god (a rosary i recite with teeth)

by allmydecembers (diasterisms)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, I'm A Trash Can Not A Trash Can't, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/pseuds/allmydecembers
Summary: Despite the veneer of arrogance that he tries to project, he's close enough for her to see all his microexpressions— the twitch under his left eye, the tense set of his jaw, the slight tremor of his plush bottom lip. He's desperate for her. It's an all-consuming need that burns in the Force like wildfire.A collection of smutty prompt fills. All one-shots, some potentially interconnected, none bearing any semblance of plot.





	1. hâsk

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to diasterisms after dark, lol. This is basically what it says on the tin— I want to become more comfortable writing the frickety-frack and I thought it would be a neat little exercise to open [an NSFW sideblog](https://cyarikas.tumblr.com/) where people can send me smutty fic requests.
> 
> Because I've made it a personal challenge to write _anything_ the fandom throws at me, kindly **mind the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter**. I will also be copypasting the prompts in their entirety for you to look them over and decide if it's your jam before reading.
> 
> I'm new to PWPs so please bear with me. Comments, suggestions, and concrit would be very much appreciated.
> 
> On to the first oneshot!
> 
> +++
> 
>  **Prompts:**  
>  Anonymous said: Do the tentacles thea  
> Anonymous said: T E N T A C L E S -definitely NOT megan @spacedarcy  
> @aionimica said: tentasnuggles
> 
>  **Thoughts:**  
>  Y'all thought I wouldn’t do it well I DUCKING DID sfdsghk I had to, like, _research_ tentacle sex and why it’s a kink for some people in order to (hopefully) hit the right notes. The FBI agent assigned to me is shaking their head at my search history right now.
> 
>  **Details:**  
>  Post-TLJ canonverse  
> 3,642 words  
> Prompt fill from [this list](https://cyarikas.tumblr.com/post/173302386137/kinky-fic-prompts)
> 
>  **Kinks and warnings:**  
>  T E N T A C L E S  
> Triple penetration  
> Potential dubcon due to dark side influence

****< <HIGH SITH>> _noun._ "Anguish."

 

* * *

 

At first, Rey tells herself that it's mere curiosity. The thing lives in the bowels of the labyrinthine, waterlogged cave system on the planet that currently serves as the Resistance base, and she's never seen its ilk before. A gigantic mass of black tendrils blossoms on a damp embankment from a central core that seems to be rooted deep beneath the stone; they look like vines, and so she initially hypothesizes that the thing is a plant. On her third visit, however, the outermost tentacles stir vaguely in her direction, as if rustled by a breeze, and she wonders if it might be some kind of animal, after all. The life energy that she senses is sluggish, like that of mold, but on her fourth visit the signature has perked up considerably.

 

By her sixth visit, Rey can feel the heart. It beats underground, slow and rhythmic, like low tide.

 

The truth is, she rather likes the thing. It's something new in a galaxy of wonders that she's been desensitized to by the hardships of war. She likes the cave, too— she's the only one who knows about it and it's far enough from the command center, the barracks, and all surrounding outposts that she can be alone with her thoughts for hours on end. And she has a _lot_ to think about.

 

The object of most of these thoughts intrudes upon her cave on her ninth visit. She's sitting down, leaning against the mass of tentacles and drawing a strange kind of comfort from its coiled stillness, the firm yet spongy solidity curled up in haphazard patterns pressed to her back, when the world goes quiet like the inner workings of the blood in her veins and _he_ is there.

 

The Force bond is still erratic and treacherous, sneaking up on her when she leasts expects it, but it has evolved over time. They can see each other's surroundings these days and, for some reason, he's brought into her world more often than not in the same odd and fleeting teleportation as that rainy night on Ahch-To.

 

Ahch-To was several months ago, and now he's at his desk on some distant ship, poring over navigational charts. He looks up, and in one fell swoop his sharp gaze takes in the cavern illuminated by shafts of gray daylight from the myriad cracks in the natural stone ceiling and the hulking shadow of the thing at her back.

 

"What _is_ it with you and caves?" Kylo's voice is soft and deep and it echoes through the tunnel, laced with the drip of saltwater and the breath-like whisper of air flowing in from the wind-tossed shore outside.

 

Rey says nothing. After Crait, after the first few bursts of tear-filled recriminations and heated arguments— and, sometimes, impassioned pleas— that had spanned the lightyears between the Supreme Leader and the Last Jedi, she has resorted to cold silence, making a pretense of ignoring him until the bond inevitably peters out. She knows it wounds him, and perhaps she takes a certain savage delight in that.

 

"Your new pet?" Kylo tries again, shifting his attention to the thing. He gets to his feet and steps past the vague boundary where cabin blurs into cavern, steps into her world where pools of shallow water ripple beneath his boots. "A most unusual—"

 

The thing springs to life. That's the only way Rey can describe it. The moment Kylo draws close to the embankment, a sudden tremor against Rey's spine is the only warning she gets before the tentacles _move—_ one wrapping around her waist, several rising into the air and flicking and snapping threateningly.

 

Like snakes.

 

Kylo freezes, the features that were arranged into calm, scholarly inquisitiveness only a few seconds ago now alert and tense with something like fear. Fear for her? _That's a laugh,_ Rey thinks derisively even though her pulse has started accelerating far too fast.

 

And yet...

 

And yet she doesn't struggle. The tentacle around her waist is as thick as her arm and it holds her in a grip that, while tight, is far from constricting. It's actually sort of _reassuring,_ almost, as are the other tendrils that surround her in a writhing mass, their bulbous ends poised as if to attack the man who had broken her heart should he make one false move. She doesn't feel like she's in danger. Not at all.

 

Kylo, of course, thinks differently. He narrows his eyes at the thing and Rey can sense him untangling its imprint in the Force, searching for clues to its nature. While he does that, she catches herself staring at the wrinkle between his brows as they knit together. How she would have liked to press her lips to that spot and cajole him to stop being so serious, had this been any other kind of life. He doesn't look well— there are dark circles under his eyes and his complexion is even paler than usual. He looks like she feels. Their separation has wrung both of them out to dry.

 

"Rey," he says at last. "It's a type of Sithspawn. Semi-sentient but primitive. You woke it up." His hand drops to the lightsaber hilt on his belt. "I'll cut you loose—"

 

"I don't think it wants to hurt me," Rey says, the first words she has spoken to him in several weeks, over several manifestations of the bond.

 

Kylo swallows a lump in his throat at the sound of her voice. His dark eyes take on a certain mistiness— it could be a trick of the half-light, or he really _could_ be just that ridiculous. "You trust it now?" he snarls, sounding more angry at his weakness than her foolishness.

 

It's her turn to narrow _her_ eyes. "I've trusted worse."

 

 _Oh,_ how that barb sinks in, how he hates it, his gloved fists clenching at his sides. They stare at each other in bitter silence for so long that she actually starts to get a crick in her neck— she's sitting down, after all, and he is so, so tall.

 

The thing moves again. Another tentacle, thinner than the one around her waist, emerges from the mass behind her, stroking the curve of her jaw in a gentle caress. She starts; it's smooth and rubbery, cool to the touch.

 

Kylo makes toward her again, only to be stopped when another tentacle whips at the ground centimeters from the tip of his boot, swift as lightning. Rey would have been amused by a powerful darksider being scared of this— _animal— plant— thing—_ but she already knows that he's afraid it might harm her if agitated. She sees the worry in his mind, bleeding through the connection between them.

 

The tendril at her jaw slithers down her neck. She can't help but shiver— it's such a foreign sensation but it's somehow not unpleasant. Now that he's clued her in on its origins, she can detect the rivulets of the dark side flowing through the thing's hidden vessels. Or perhaps— perhaps she has _always_ been able to detect it, and the reason she feels so at home in this cave is that it reminds her of what had lurked beneath Ahch-To, of what she hadn't even thought to resist.

 

"You see?" Kylo whispers. "You're always so good at lying to yourself. It's how you survived in that wasteland for so long."

 

"We've already had this conversation," she retorts. The memory stirs anger inside her, because the hurt is too heavy to carry and anger is all she has left.

 

Anger is of the dark side. The thing— the Sithspawn— responds to that emotion like a flower turning its face to the sun. It swells, it— _breathes,_ radiating a chaotic energy that croons through the Force in waves. Irresistible. Beguiling.

 

Rey holds Kylo's gaze as the tendril at her neck creeps lower, soon joined by another one just like it on her other side. The appendages reach her breasts at the same time, at first circling her nipples and then rubbing them into hardened peaks through her shirt.

 

And she— she lets it happen. She lets it happen because the air in the cave has taken on a pulse, the ambient sounds of water and stone and wind coalescing into wisps of a language she should not know but somehow does, deep in her soul, an ancient tongue that promises passion and glory in equal measure. She lets it happen because there is nothing sweeter than the look on Kylo's face— a look of utter stupefaction that soon twists into sheer despair.

 

He thinks he should be the one touching her like this. He thinks he has the right. She sees it all in the bond.

 

"What's the matter?" Rey taunts, smirking a little although she has no idea how she manages to sound so coherent when this delicious friction is clouding her senses. "Jealous of a plant?"

 

"It's not a plant," Kylo mutters sullenly.

 

More tentacles wrap around Rey's legs, prying her thighs apart. When the tip of the thick one around her waist begins a lazy descent towards her crotch, Kylo snarls in helpless frustration but makes no move to save her. Why bother? It's glaringly obvious that she doesn't want to be saved from whatever this is.

 

The bond wavers, a slave to the mysterious whims of the Force. Their time is almost up.

 

"You know what?" she says, just to be cruel, as the thick tentacle nudges experimentally at her clit. "You're welcome to join."

 

 _"Rey."_ Kylo lunges for her, but that's when the connection snaps in half. Like brittle glass.

 

Alone again in the cave, with only the thing for company, Rey lets out a hollow laugh. She doesn't sound like herself, she doesn't _feel_ like herself, as she settles back amidst the tendrils and lets her _new pet_ finish what it started.

 

* * *

 

By the time of her sixteenth visit to the cave, Rey is fucking the thing like a pro.

 

It's more animated now. Its tentacles are still cool to the touch but that only increases her pleasure, as does the clear fluid that leaks from the tips to elicit a delightful, tingling sensation, aphrodisiac and lubricant all in one. The thing does not orgasm— its sole purpose seems to be to serve her, and she's not complaining at all. It's a release in more ways than the literal; she channels the light in battle but, during the hours spent in this cave, she can appease her darker nature.

 

And how dark it is, indeed.

 

Currently she is naked, suspended in the air by dozens of tentacles— one in her cunt, one in her ass, the rest either gripping her limbs or toying with her breasts. She's facing the ground and whimpering, already half out of her mind, already reaching her peak, every inch of her bare skin tacky with the clear fluid that takes each and every sensation to impossible heights, when—

 

"Enjoying yourself?"

 

Rey's head whips around to peer over her shoulder. Kylo emerges from the shadows of the tunnel, but this isn't the bond.

 

He's _here._

 

In the flesh.

 

She opens her mouth to ask him how the hell he found her but, at that precise moment, the tentacle in her ass gives a particularly hard thrust and she moans instead.

 

"I suppose that answers my question." Kylo looks slightly put out, jealousy flaring in his dark eyes, but there is a certain determination to the set of his features in the half-light. "I didn't bring my army, by the way. It's just us. And—" His lips purse in a disdain directed at the writhing Sithspawn— " _that."_

 

"H— how—" Rey gasps out, but that's really all she can manage in her situation.

 

"Some research. Do you know that your pet is the only one of its kind and it was created during—"

 

"You're not— _aaah—_ serious." She tries her best to glare at him even as a smaller tendril laps at her swollen clit. "You really think it's— _fuck—_ the best time for a history lesson?"

 

Kylo smirks. That same old awkward twist of lips, albeit with more menace behind it. "You're right. I didn't come here to talk." He extends one gloved hand and he intones—

 

— _something—_

 

It's the same language that Rey has caught traces of in this cave before. Rich, guttural, and ancient. She can't tell what he says _exactly_ but the overall impression is that of a command.

 

The thing goes completely still, every tentacle freezing in place.

 

And then, before Rey can react, before she can so much as _blink,_ she is suddenly flipped over so that she's staring up at the roof of the cave. The tentacles had to withdraw from her holes in order to make such a maneuver possible, and she almost screams when they plunge back in. But she doesn't have time to savor their return, because she is being hoisted up and then hauled _forward,_ a myriad rubbery appendages supporting her weight as they—

 

— bring her to Kylo, her arms outstretched, her legs spread and their junction at level with his hips—

 

Rey's wide eyes meet his as the realization hits. "You bastard," she breathes.

 

There is, however, far less ire in her tone than there should have been. To be this close to him again, to smell smoke and metal and leather and to gaze up at that pale, narrow face— it almost breaks her heart anew. She's not scared, even though she's in what is quite possibly the most compromising, most vulnerable position anyone's ever found themselves in. He would never hurt her. She knows this and he knows this. That's the path that will one day lead to their doom.

 

"You said I was welcome to join you last time," he reminds her. Despite the veneer of arrogance that he tries to project, he's close enough for her to see all his microexpressions— the twitch under his left eye, the tense set of his jaw, the slight tremor of his plush bottom lip. He's desperate for her. It's an all-consuming need that burns in the Force like wildfire.

 

"Well, you'll have to be a little more proactive, for starters—" she grumbles.

 

At Kylo's barely perceptible nod, the now docile thing begins moving again. Rey jerks in her restraints, tossing her head back as tentacles swirl around her nipples and caress her sides and undulate against her clit, while the ones stationed at her ass and cunt glide in and out in opposing strokes that ensure one hole is always filled. It's staggering, a constant barrage of simulation that makes her see stars as she hangs there, spread-eagled, like an offering.

 

"You're so beautiful," she hears him sigh. "I should have told you that a long time ago." Their mental link opens up and she sees herself through his eyes— her slender frame nestled amidst the pulsating mass of the thing, its tentacles inky black against her golden skin, her tits bouncing with each thrust, her pussy dripping all over the elongated shaft on which it is impaled. "You're beautiful when you fight," he continues, the low, silky rasp of his voice providing yet another level of pleasure in her overly aroused state. "When you betray me." His breath catches. "When you're being fucked."

 

She weakly raises her head to look at him again. He's freed his cock from his trousers and is now lazily pumping it in one gloved fist as he drinks in the lewd sight of her. It's a beautiful cock, long and thick and flushed, and her mouth waters at the sight of it. There is no going back from this. The dark side has taken over them both in all its reeling frenzy, the air in the cave crawling with the primal hymns of forgotten ghosts.

 

_Nu hyar._

 

_Dzwol shasotkun._

 

_Nu warai._

 

_Kotswinot itsu nuyak._

 

_Nu gedulas._

 

 _"Akisi,"_ Rey croaks, although she does not know how she knows it, the old Sith word for _beloved._ "Come here. Come to me, come in me—"

 

She cries out in frustration at the slick slide of the tentacle withdrawing from her cunt, but it's not long before that frustration turns into a sobbing, ecstatic relief when Kylo grabs her by the hips and pulls her onto his cock. Even though the thing had already left her soaking wet and pliant, he still has to work his way in with a sharp grunt.

 

"Rey," he murmurs fervently like a prayer as his leather-clad fingers press bruises into her hips, "Rey, Force, how are you still so tight—"

 

She can't answer him because it robs her of breath, how hot and _wide_ he is inside her, how right it feels. She's utterly stretched to the limit, with Kylo's cock in her pussy and a tentacle in her ass, and when he starts to thrust it's almost too much, it leaves her spasming from the incredible pressure, her spine arching in the air and her jaw slack and her sanity melting away.

 

Sensing another opportunity, the tentacle that had been in her cunt shoves itself into her mouth. She's done this before and, normally, the thing doesn't taste much like anything, it's just smooth and cold on her tongue, but today it tastes like _her_ and she moans at the decadence, the wickedness.

 

Kylo picks up the pace, and Rey's eyes all but roll into the back of her head. _Too much,_ she thinks again, disjointed, scattered thoughts, _so full._ He gazes down at her in awe and disbelief as she gags around the tentacle in her mouth, as she pushes back against the tentacle in her ass, as she meets the snap of his hips, as she bucks wildly to encourage the tendrils that are latched on to her nipples.

 

"You _love_ this," he marvels in a hoarse tone of voice. "You love being— being _stuffed—"_

 

Rey can't exactly talk at the moment, but she manages to free one hand from the tendrils' grasp for long enough to give Kylo the middle finger. In the silvery gloom of the cave, his lips curve into a vague semblance of a genuine smile.

 

And then his large hands are effortlessly maneuvering the lower half of her body for a better angle, and he is somehow able to hilt himself even deeper inside her. She rears up in shock, and the tentacle in her mouth hits the back of her throat. _Oh,_ that's lovely, that's—

 

The flicker of dark mischief in Kylo's expression is the only warning Rey gets before his cock and the two tentacles penetrating her start moving in perfect sync. In, out, in again, all at the same time. Long, slow strokes. The tendrils at her nipples and her clit echo the pattern, retracting slightly when she's empty, pulsing against her when she's full.

 

Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. Saliva drips from her mouth.

 

The dark side _leers._

 

"Are you ready?" Kylo quietly asks.

 

Rey musters a faint nod.

 

Still following the same pattern, still thrusting in sync, albeit sped up, Kylo and the Sithspawn fuck Rey to within an inch of her life. She's too overwhelmed to move, too overwhelmed to do anything but just hang there limply and _take it,_ take it all, as she is tossed about like a rag doll, her screams muffled by the tentacle in her mouth. She feels like she's going to break, the universe burning up behind her closed eyes, all three of her holes being pounded raw.

 

She can't even tell where her first orgasm ends and her second one begins. She comes again and again and again, gushing on Kylo's cock, gagging on the tentacle in her mouth, being stretched so deliciously by the tentacle in her ass. She thinks she might die this way, writhing in the endless onslaught of pleasure, the dark side flooding through her system and roaring in her ears like wild drumbeats.

 

By the time the thing obeys its new master's unspoken command and releases her, all the tentacles falling away as Kylo hauls her bodily against him, Rey is barely conscious. She uses the last vestiges of her strength to wrap her arms around his neck, her fingers scrabbling at the ribbed material of his black tunic, her thighs locking around his hips as he thrusts up into her a few more times before finally emptying himself inside her with a groan stifled into her bedraggled hair, his come flooding her aching cunt in a rush of warmth.

 

They sink to the floor slowly, still connected, with him on top of her as her back lands on the mass of tentacles. Still in the throes of the dark side's frenzy, he babbles a stream of whispered promises into her ear as she comes down from her high— filthy, impassioned promises, next time he'll fuck her mouth, next time he'll take her ass, next time he'll come in all her holes, cover her with it—

 

"You haven't even kissed me yet," Rey weakly complains. Her voice is too husky, her throat scraped raw. "Do that first."

 

Kylo is all too eager to comply. It's their first kiss, which is ridiculous after what they've just done, but it's soft and sweet and somehow perfect, and she sighs into his mouth.

 

"What now?" he ventures after a while of them just laying together and breathing each other in and letting the dark wash over them in waves, the tentacles rubbing against their bodies in gentle, soothing caresses.

 

"Now?" Rey echoes, but she already has an idea. She prepares herself to mimic the command he'd issued to the Sithspawn earlier, to wrestle control over it from him. "Now it's _your_ turn, Ben."


	2. i was a flower on the mountain, his heart going like mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompts:**  
>  r-e-a-l-m-a-t-h said: 37 accidental stimulation oh gosh pls pls  
> Anonymous said: Ahhhhh Thea you’re doing nsfw prompts!!!! My nsfw prompt: Library AU where Kylo and Rey need to be really quiet while doing a quickie, but they get so into it they drop a book but still keep going  
> Anonymous said: “accidental stimulation” if you’ve got the time/inspo. Good luck with ur practice!  
> Anonymous said: Perhaps some accidental stimulation?  
> Anonymous said: 37 accidental stimulation! Please :)  
> viridescentlights said:“have you been good?” + accidental stimulation / lingerie/panties  
> Anonymous said: 37 and/or 39 for kinky prompt list?
> 
> **Details:**  
>  Modern AU  
> 2,673 words  
> Prompt fill from [these](https://cyarikas.tumblr.com/post/173302386137/kinky-fic-prompts) [lists](https://cyarikas.tumblr.com/post/173302400892/nsfw-prompt-list-1).
> 
> **Kinks and warnings:**  
>  Accidental stimulation  
> Lingerie  
> Public sex  
> Dirty talk  
> Anal play  
> Size kink  
> Come-marking

The train is packed and Ben hates it. He's not a people person even at the best of times, and to be surrounded by strangers jostling one another and chatting away on the long commute— it's a special kind of hell.

 

For what it's worth, though, everyone's giving him as wide a berth as they can in the limited space. He's standing in the corner of the last compartment, gripping a hanging strap for support, dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans and glowering at whoever so much as glances in his general direction. All these businessmen and hipsters and old ladies must think he's some kind of criminal— the scar on his face probably helps— and so he has a half's foot radius between him and the throng. It's not much, but he'll take it.

 

The train glides to a stop. No one disembarks— this is Jakku Station, which is basically nowhere— but several new passengers spill in through the open doors. Among them is a girl in a bright yellow sundress and chunky brown boots, and in spite of his discomfort the line of Ben's mouth can't help but soften at the sight of her.

 

She glances around for only a second before he catches her eye— no surprise, as he's a foot taller than most of the other commuters— and she beams with all the intensity of a tiny sun, happily elbowing her way through the crowd over to him.

 

"Sorry, I'm looking for my girlfriend," Ben says. "Have you seen her? Wears T-shirts and tattered jeans—"

 

"Oh, switch off." Rey stands on tiptoe to press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. "It's laundry day."

 

The train starts up again. Rey turns around, grabbing hold of the pole in front of her and leaning back against him. Ben automatically wraps his free arm around her waist from behind, nuzzling at her temple.

 

"You look great," he whispers in her ear.

 

"Thanks. You look like a mugger."

 

He hides a smile against her chestnut hair, twisted up into the usual three buns. She _smells_ great, too, like honey shampoo and blackberry cologne, and he's content to just breathe in her scent and luxuriate in her nearness, his annoyance with public transportation melting away.

 

They have a long train ride ahead of them— the library is on the other side of the city, at the very last stop. Rey's going there to check out some books to study while Ben— for whom college feels like a lifetime ago— is just tagging along. Finals week is almost upon her and he hasn't actually _seen_ her in several days, so he thinks he can be forgiven for staring down at the light freckles dusted on her left shoulder, exposed by the thin cotton strap of her dress. He'd kissed each and every one of those freckles last time, in his apartment, while she clawed at the sheets and whimpered into the pillows as he took her from behind, crushing her cute little tits in his large palms...

 

Ben's cock twitches at the memory.

 

In front of him, Rey's popped in her earbuds and is bobbing her head slightly to whatever song she's obsessed with this week. She always tends to lose herself in music with the same enthusiasm she brings to everything else— be it sex or fixing cars or playing video games or all-you-can-eat promos— so it's not long before she's swaying to the beat in a toned-down, Rey-please-we're-in-public version of the dorky, shoulder-shuffling dance that she insists on using to _every song,_ no matter the time signature or genre. It's very endearing, but it also has the unfortunate effect of making Ben's cock realize that it's pressed against her wriggling backside— and reacting in the only way it knows how.

 

_I'm not going to get an erection on a train,_ he tells himself firmly. He tightens his grip around her waist in an effort to get her to stop _moving_ so much, and she darts a small, soft smile at him over her shoulder, completely oblivious, leaning further against his chest with a blissful purr.

 

_Missed you,_ she mouths, and his cock twitches _again_ at the sweetness of the simple gesture. He can't believe she hasn't felt it yet.

 

A flock of tourists boards at the next stop. The throng swells, backing Ben and Rey further into the corner. They're now surrounded by a half-circle of large backpacks, because apparently these tourists didn't get the memo that this city's seedier citizens are always on the lookout for easy pickings and you should _always_ wear your backpack in front of you while on a train. Ben would have spared a moment of well-earned Coruscanti native contempt for them, but he is so very _distracted_ by the fact that the increase in crowd density has forced Rey to press her entire body against his.

 

Now her ass is flush against his groin and, when she innocently shifts her weight from one foot to the other, the clothed _slide_ of it is enough to ratchet his libido up to dangerous levels. He hasn't fucked her in _days—_ to be this close to her, unable to do anything about it, is pure agony.

 

His hand moves almost as if of its own volition, splaying out across the flat plane of her stomach. She's not petite by a long shot, but she's so small compared to him that his outstretched fingers can practically span the distance between her hipbones. Slowly, ever so slowly, he caresses her abdomen, running his fingertips along the thin fabric of her dress, dipping his index finger into the hollow that marks where her belly button is. His thumb stretches upwards until it's nearly at the valley between her breasts.

 

Rey stills. She looks back at him, her hazel eyes wide, and this time he's the one who shifts position so that the tent in his jeans is now nestled squarely between the globes of her pert ass. He can pinpoint the exact moment she feels his hard-on— her eyes darken and she swallows a knot in her throat, and then she turns to face the pole again, shoving her phone and earbuds back into her purse as she subtly but deliberately wriggles against him. Just once, but it's as good a go-signal as anything.

 

Ben sucks in a hiss of breath, suddenly grateful for the backpacks that shield them from view and for the other passengers being on their phones or busy talking with their companions. There's no one to notice his hand settle at the curve of her waist, squeezing once before lowering to the spur of her hip. He'd intended to trace the side seam of her panties through her dress, but what he feels— instead of her usual briefs or boy shorts, chosen for practicality and not aesthetic— is nothing more than a strip of something soft and scratchy, something that he thinks might be lace.

 

Rey owns exactly _one_ item of lace underwear. To confirm his suspicions, Ben gently glides his fingers over her right buttock. It's bare beneath her dress, and his heartbeat speeds up. She's wearing _the_ thong, also known as the best thing that's ever happened to him, second only to her in general.

 

One of the backpack-wielding tourists turns slightly to the left to say something to her friend, and in doing so happens to glance over at them. Ben and Rey force themselves to act nonchalant— in their current position, he just has a hand on her hip, and so what if she's pressed up against him, it's what couples do. No one can see how hard he is in his jeans, no one can hear the shallowness of her breathing. Ben makes sure his gaze is directed straight ahead for good measure, waiting until the tourist turns away to hook his fingers into the side of Rey's thong and snap it against her skin, taking care not to rip the delicate fabric. She jumps, tossing her head back, grinding into him a bit. He stifles a moan, bending down to dart a quick kiss to the sweet spot behind her ear. _Nothing to see here, folks,_ he thinks wryly. Just a casual display of public affection, just two young people in love.

 

"These pretty little panties makes me suspect you had something else in mind apart from studying," he rasps in her ear.

 

"I _told_ you," she murmurs, her cheeks flushed, "it's laundry day. I didn't have anything else to wear."

 

He smirks. "Only bad girls lie, Rey."

 

"I've been behaving for five days now," she insists, craning her neck so she can peer up at him through her lashes. "What about you, Mr. Solo? Have you been good?"

 

"No." They're already whispering, but he lowers his voice even further. The last thing they need is to give the old ladies in priority seating a stroke apiece. "I jacked off last night thinking about going down on you. About sucking your clit." He looks around once more to make sure that they're still being unnoticed, and then he furtively slides his hand up the skirt of her dress, cupping the dampness between her legs, pushing one finger into the hollow of her slit until it can go no further, barred by that scrap of lace, and then dragging upwards until he's rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. "I came right when I imagined putting my thumb in your ass as I licked your cunt and you squirted all over my face. Just like last time, baby, remember?"

 

_"Ben."_ She all but exhales his name, sounding absolutely terrified to be doing this in public and yet also so hopelessly turned on. "Oh, my god, yes, I remember everything, I—" She bites her lip before she can get too loud, even as she bucks her dripping pussy into his palm.

 

"What if I slipped my thumb in there again right now?" He thrusts his straining erection against her as he continues to play with her clit. "Could you imagine? You, looking so angelic, like sunshine, in your pretty yellow dress, and no one having any _idea_ that you're squirming as your tight little asshole stretches around my thumb. God, Rey—" His voice breaks with sheer _need._ "What if I just flipped up your skirt and _fucked_ you, against that pole you're holding on to, my cock in your ass and my fingers in your pussy while we're surrounded by all these people— do you think you would be quiet? Do you think you _could_ be quiet?"

 

"N— no," she stutters, shaking her head. "I'd scream so much, Ben, it would hurt so much, it would feel so good, I'd be so full—"

 

Someone in the crowd coughs. It's far too rattling and hasty to be a warning to _please stop engaging in foreplay with your girlfriend on this train,_ but Ben and Rey freeze again. The sound pierces their little bubble, a semblance of reality flooding in. They're crazy to do this here.

 

Ben reluctantly drops his hand back to his side. No sooner has he done that when Rey whirls around, burrowing her face into his hoodie as she hugs him by the waist. "I need you, I need you, I need you," she chants under her breath, sniffling a little, holding on to him as tightly as if she's afraid he'll be taken away from her.

 

His chest hurts from the desperation to be skin-to-skin. He gathers her up in a one-armed embrace, rubbing her back in soothing circles, the hanging strap his other hand is still latched on to now supporting them both as they glide through the sunlit metal city. "I know," is all he can manage to say in response, the words rumbled into her hair.

 

* * *

 

They barrel through the library doors, all but tripping over themselves as they disappear into the most isolated section they can find. Between rows of outdated encyclopedias, on the third floor where no one ever goes, she kisses him _hard_ against the wall, a filthy tangle of tongues, and then pulls away. Her face is streaked with tears and his breath catches in his throat. He's never been with anyone who wants him as much as Rey always does, so encompassingly, without reservation.

 

They switch places; she bends over, bracing her palms against the wall as he fumbles with his zipper. "Hurry, please hurry," she begs, darting him an imploring look over her shoulder.

 

"Almost there, sweetheart," Ben tries to console, his hands shaking so badly as he tugs his jeans and boxers down his thighs. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, fill you up—" He raises her skirt, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of the lacy black thong on her smooth golden skin before he tugs it to the side and rams his cock into her sopping wet cunt. He muffles his groan into her shoulder, shoves three fingers into her mouth to prevent her from making a sound. But there's no disguising the sloppy noises of their coupling, the slap of flesh. He just prays they can both finish before someone hears them and goes to investigate.

 

"You feel so good," he mutters brokenly into the slope of her neck. "So tight and so wet, God, I shouldn't have waited, should have taken you on the damn train right in front of everyone so they all know we belong to each other—"

 

Rey can only nod in agreement as she gags around his fingers. He presses in deeper and her arms give way— they're too near the shelf and so she accidentally elbows a couple of heavy books onto the floor. The solid crash is resounding, echoing through the quiet library, but they don't stop. There's no time to stop, they're both too far gone. Her breasts are being mashed against the wall by the force of his thrusts and she's whining, breathless little whines, from the combination of pleasure and pain. Determined to add to the stimulation, Ben reaches around with his free hand to blindly claw at her chest, and soon he's managed to pop her breasts free from her dress' neckline, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger, pinching hard enough to make her yelp.

 

"You're so big," she slurs around his fingers, and he can feel her lips stretch as she smiles in her delirium. "Think I can feel you in my stomach—" Her hand slides to her belly, pressing down on where he is rooted inside her. And _that—_ the mental image of the outline of his cock bulging through her flesh— is enough to drag him headlong into climax, and she bites down on his fingers as she orgasms from the sensation of his come flooding her inner walls.

 

Ben pulls out before he's finished ejaculating, his fist pumping rapidly along his length. Attuned to him and his needs as always, Rey gets down on her knees facing him. She's utterly debauched, hazel eyes at half-mast, swollen red lips parted and slick with spit, tits hanging out of her dress. His free hand slams into the wall above her head as he hunches over her, spurting onto her tongue and collarbones in thick ropes.

 

For a while, he can only gaze down at her in reverence, his ears still ringing from the force of what had been a long-awaited orgasm. It's such an exquisite picture she makes, blissfully fucked-out and covered in his come. If he weren't _already_ head over heels in love with her, he'd definitely be well on his way by now.

 

"You should wear dresses more often," is all he can think to say. "I mean— if you want to."

 

"After _this?"_ Rey dimples up at him, looking for all the world like an angel, drenched in white. "Sure. And maybe we can take the train again— you know, go for another ride."


	3. the curve of a wrist, or what's left of romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompts:**  
>  @haraldskaer said: in no way whatsoever inspired by that conversation the other day, “blindfolds/sensory deprivation” with a light sprinkling of overstimulation? >:)  
> @ceallaigheirinn said: Ben Solo manages to catch himself a wicked case of hibernation sickness. Blind wackiness ensues… 
> 
> **Thoughts:**  
>  Me: Does fingering make a noise?  
> Nina: In space, no one can hear your weird sex sounds.
> 
> **Details:**  
>  Post-TLJ canonverse  
> 2,425 words
> 
> **Kinks and warnings:**  
>  Sensory deprivation  
> Overstimulation  
> Nipple play  
> Deepthroat

When a young Ben Solo told Han that he wanted to be just like him when he grew up, this was definitely  _ not  _ what he'd had in mind, although leave it to the Hutts to never stray from a tried-and-tested formula.

 

Rey had been the one to extract him from the carbonite in the  _ kajidii' _ s palace, had been the one to blast her way out of there with a raw display of power that had shaken the place's foundations to the core. Kylo had felt it all through their bond— her anger, her desperation, her possessiveness as she swept aside the crime boss' ranks like they were leaves in the wind and crushed several windpipes at once with a single gesture of her fingers.  _ How dare you try to keep him from me,  _ the dark inside her had raged,  _ mine, mine,  _ _**mine—** _

 

He hadn't actually  _ seen  _ any of it, of course. The long-term state of suspended animation had left him temporarily blinded. He'd only felt the movement of her free arm and heard the fleshy thud of bodies against the wall. He'd only heard the snap of her fingertips clicking together and the wheezing gasps for air as he felt the Force constrict.

 

Felt. Heard. Smelled. Tasted. These are his endpoints now, because hibernation sickness is a  _ bitch. _

 

Currently he is in bed, in a room that smells like Rey. He's curled up on one side, his back tucked against her chest while her slim arms gather him close in a protective embrace. It should be comical because she's a skinny, tiny thing compared to him, but he doesn't have the strength to do the holding right now. He would never allow himself to be in such a vulnerable position with anyone else.

 

"The medics say your vision should return within the next standard day cycle or two," Rey tells him, her lips shaping the words against the spot between his shoulder-blades, covered in the thin material of a borrowed sleep shirt. "Resistance Command will discuss what's to be done with you when you're better."

 

"And how did you manage to finagle  _ that  _ particular concession?" Kylo mumbles woodenly. His eyes are screwed shut because to see nothing when he opens them is cause for panic in and of itself.

 

"I'm their Jedi, am I not?" He feels her lips curve into a wry smirk. "I have special privileges."

 

"Those weren't exactly Jedi powers you used on Nal Hutta."

 

Rey's tired, exasperated sigh puffs gently against his shirt. "Not this again."

 

"You don't wish to argue with a man on death's door?"

 

"You are  _ not  _ on death's door, don't be so dramatic." She pinches the skin of his abdomen, a warning which she then soothes with the palm of her hand like a belly rub.

 

Kylo relaxes at such a ministration, his mood lightening somewhat. "You should offer me up for ransom. Enough generals are loyal to me that Hux would have no choice. He'd blow a gasket."

 

"Don't think I haven't considered that. What's the going rate for Supreme Leaders these days?"

 

"I don't know." He turns slightly to hide his face in the pillow. "What do you think I'm worth?"

 

Her arms tighten around his waist. "Everything, Ben," she whispers. "But you already knew that."

 

Something lodges in his chest, clenching. Even in his weakened state, he just  _ has  _ to kiss her for that. It takes some effort but he eventually manages to roll over, silencing Rey's protest with his mouth— or, well, that was the plan, anyway. His lips close over the tip of her nose instead.

 

She giggles. A dulcet sound that floats through the darkness and strikes inner chords within him.

 

"Sure, make fun of an invalid," Kylo grumbles, trailing sloppy, clumsy kisses all over her face. She finally takes pity on him and cradles his jaw in her hands, guiding his mouth to hers. It's both strange and wonderful to kiss like this, like they have all the time in the world. So much of their relationship has been hurried trysts on secret locations in between battles, or, failing that, the dream-state of the bond where everything is both real and not.

 

After a while spent in a tangle of tongues and limbs, the press of soft breasts to hard chest, the slide of two bodies moving in the dark, Kylo gets an erection. Frankly, this is a surprise because he hadn't thought his battered body capable of it, had assumed that the blood in his veins was frozen and would never move again, least of all south. But, then again, Rey is amazing like that.

 

Her own surprise is a palpable thing in the Force, a bright and not altogether  _ displeased  _ little flicker. "Well," she muses when his hard-on pokes what feels like her stomach, "should've known His Worshipness wouldn't stay down for long."

 

"You really have to stop calling it that," Kylo mildly chides against her lips. The truth is, her various pet names for his cock make him laugh, deep down inside, but someone of his status shouldn't countenance such impertinence.

 

She is eager and willing and she smells like want and desert heat, but it's not long before reality sets in. He still can't see. Hell, he can barely  _ move.  _ He doesn't know how to love her this way, and that realization is what causes the panic to set in, causes him to wrench his mouth from hers and flop creakily onto his back to stare up at the ceiling with blind eyes.

 

"Ben?"

 

He feels her warmth, feels the static of her presence. The shape of her is an arch ending just above him like a wave rising from the sea to break upon shore, as if she's pushed herself up on one elbow and is now peering down at his features in the glow of lamplight. He knows there is lamplight because the bond always shows him that there is lamplight in Rey's room, whenever it brings him to her here.

 

"I hate this," he tells her. If anyone deserves honesty from him, it's Rey. "I hate not being able to do anything. I hate not being in control of my body."

 

She inches closer and closer to him in breathtakingly slow movements, as if she thinks he might spook— and he can't say for sure that he won't. It's all so different in the absolute dark, the uncertainty of each moment setting every nerve ending he has on edge. The mattress shifts as her bent knees settle on either side of him and her strong thighs bracket his hips— he knows she's doing that because the feeling is familiar, as is the pressure of her bracing her hands on his shoulders for support while her torso slants over his.

 

"What if I told you—" Her lips brush over his, light as a feather, soft and delicate and slightly chapped— "that you don't have to do anything?" She presses another gentle kiss to the line of his jaw. "What if I told you that you don't  _ have  _ to be in control?"

 

*

 

To lose one of the senses is for the rest to kick into overdrive. To lie beneath Rey after she has stripped him of his clothes and to be hyper-aware of her hands and mouth on his skin is a special, exquisite form of torture. The blindfold that she'd hastily constructed from a kerchief is a comforting wisp of cloth around his head— like this, he can pretend that he is blind of his own choosing, that the Hutts never captured him, that he hadn't spent several weeks trapped in carbonite.

 

She is still fully-clothed— earlier, his hands had been able to parse that she's wearing her usual tunic and leggings. Hardly the most seductive of getups, but there is  _ something  _ about him being fully naked while she is not, a sort of power imbalance that leaves him  _ reeling. _

 

Currently she is kissing her way down his body, leaving marks in the shape of her mouth on his flesh. Every kiss feels like it comes out of nowhere, his muscles tensing in an almost nauseating anticipation as to where she'll lave at him next. For all his guesswork, though, he still jolts at the shock of her hot, wet lips latching on to his right nipple, sucking gently.

 

"Stay still, Ben," she murmurs. "Be good for me."

 

His cock twitches at the simple request, so sweetly issued. Her finger traces the outside of his left nipple in maddeningly slow circles, brushing the hardened tip at the end of each full stroke, while the right one is ever so gently scraped by her teeth and tongue. The sensations shoot down his body in a white-hot circuit of pleasure, causing his arousal to swell and throb. Kylo  _ whines,  _ low in his throat. Is this how she feels when he does this to her—

 

_ It is,  _ Rey answers his unspoken question through their mental link.  _ Amazing, isn't it, like light, like it's the closest I can get to your heart? _

 

_ Yes,  _ he sighs,  _ yes, beloved, yes. _

 

Kylo can't pinpoint the exact moment when it becomes too much. All he knows is that, some time after both his nipples are wet with her spit and raw from her teasing, tweaking fingers, the pleasure starts to edge into pain. He whimpers but she is relentless, and— and she sends him a memory. Of the time they'd rented a room in a sleazy Outer Rim motel and he'd sucked on her tits until there were tears in her eyes, shining in the neon haze of that world's red light district beaming in through the cracked window. He'd gotten her to come from the stimulation to her breasts alone, a hollow, frustrating orgasm that had turned her near feral by the end.

 

_ Turnabout is fair play,  _ Rey snickers in his mind.

 

_ You're going to regret this,  _ he vows, straining from the effort of keeping still, the effort of trying not to twist away from her cruel mouth. She'd told him to be good for her, and the sheer satisfaction he feels at doing just that far outweighs the pain.  _ Once I'm better, I won't go easy on you— _

 

_ Hmm.  _ Rey pulls off of his nipple with a wet pop. "I look forward to it." There is a sudden drop in temperature, a rush of air as she blows gently on the hyper-sensitized bud, and Kylo all but seizes up.

 

"You're killing me," he rasps.

 

How is it that he knows that she's rolling her eyes? Perhaps he hears it in her tone when she says, "Again with the dramatics."

 

But she moves downward, because Rey is far kinder than Kylo will ever be to her or to himself. His toes curl as kisses dot the ladder of his ribcage and the plane of his stomach, lingering on the softer skin of his navel until he gasps. Perhaps it's the blindness and the hibernation sickness talking but he feels like he is a constellation, an assemblage of disembodied parts gradually being brought together to form a whole, mapped out by invisible lips and unseen hands.

 

And then Rey's mouth closes over his cock, and the entire galaxy burns behind Kylo's sightless eyes.

 

Unlike the drawn-out attention she'd lavished on his chest, she doesn't bother with foreplay this time. She  _ devours  _ him, the tight, grasping suction of her mouth and the gentle caress of her fingers on his balls working together to drag him ever closer towards his peak.

 

"Rey," he begs, "Rey, please, let me move, let me fuck your mouth—"

 

_ Nope,  _ she says through the bond,  _ you're on bedrest, remember? Doctor's orders. _

 

He curses under his breath, a curse that turns into a groan when she swirls her nimble tongue along the underside of his shaft from base to tip and then— before he can even recover from such a maneuver— takes him  _ deep,  _ the stretched circle of her lips sliding down the length of his cock until his tip hits the back of her throat. 

 

Kylo is absolutely certain that he's going to die before this is over.

 

In the absence of sight, sound kicks in to heighten touch. The world becomes the sloppy, gurgling, smacking collection of noises as Rey's head bobs up and down, as she gags on his cock and the muscles of her throat work through it and engulf him further, further in, squeezing and contracting around every inch,  _ deeper, higher, always, more.  _ And then Kylo registers another familiar sensation underneath it all— that tiny little satisfied shiver of Rey's Force signature whenever... whenever...

 

"Are you—" His voice breaks. "Are you touching yourself—"

 

"Mmhmm," she hums happily around his length, the vibrations causing his fists to clench at his sides.  _ Yes,  _ she elaborates in their mental link,  _ I'm cramming my fingers into my cunt while your cock's stuffed down my throat— _

 

The mental image that she paints with her dirty words is more than he can bear. His spine arches off the mattress, his eyes open against the confines of the blindfold, and his hand unthinkingly flies to the back of Rey's head, twisting his fingers into her hair as he empties himself into her mouth with a roar. She swallows greedily, slurping at each drop of come that shoots from his tip, that he imagines in the filthiest corner of his mind pooling on her tongue and sliding down her throat.

 

Blissed out, oddly weightless, he's content to just lie there and let Rey lick him clean, the warm glow of her Force signature veiling his soul in radiance as she lazily works her fingers inside herself, chasing her own orgasm. She comes softly, comes  _ beautifully,  _ unfurling like a song of gold all around him, bestowing one last, fond kiss to the tip of his cock.

 

She crawls back up his body and he feels wet fingertips at the entrance of his lips, being held out to him like an offering. Still blindfolded, he gratefully takes her fingers into his mouth, sucking off her slickness, drowning in the taste of her. When he's done, she removes the blindfold and stretches out beside him, nestling into his side with one leg thrown over his waist. He slides one arm around her so that he can stroke her back.

 

"How was that?" she asks, stifling a yawn into his chest.

 

"It was great," Kylo murmurs, his fingers tracing the notches of Rey's spine in the dark. "All I saw was you."


	4. terrible thrills, pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompts** :  
> Anonymous said: can I get uhhhhh “I can’t wait any longer.” Or “Someone’s gonna hear you.”  
> @jmbelles said: I think *someones going to hear you* and *are we really doing this outside* in prompt form would be the death of me  
> @cuquas said: What about a mix from the two lists: “louder” and semi-public/public sex, please?  
> @refined-by-fire said: THEA THIS IS THE BEST IDEA EVER #46 pleeeaaase  
> @bex-xo said: reylo #46 Wall sex/standing up sex from the Kinky Fic Prompt list please and thank you!  
> Anonymous said: (First time prompter!) How hot would it be if Rey got herself all wet and stretched open and ready and then just secretly, suddenly, drops into his day, interrupts him in the middle of a business phone call and somehow (invis? or through the Force bond?) sits on Kylo and rides him HARD while he tries to maintain a semblance of composure in his voice? 
> 
> **Thoughts:**  
>  Sorry this doesn't fit some of the prompts exactly, but it's where my mind went! @ the last anon, I will see if I can still incorporate your prompt into a canonverse fic one of these days!
> 
> **Details:**  
>  Modern AU  
> 3,406 words
> 
> **Tags:**  
>  Exhibitionism/public sex  
> Size kink  
> Oral sex  
> Dirty talk  
> Dom/sub undertones... but who is the dom and who is the sub? ;)

_or: in which ben and rey are really,_ _**really** _ _into (almost) getting caught_

 

i.

 

_In flagrante delicto,_ Ben explains when Rey asks— pointing at the legal brief printed on clean white paper with a finger practically _dipped_ in engine grease, which earns her a mildly censorious glance— is a Latin term used to indicate that someone has been caught in the act of breaching the law.

 

"The closest literal translation would be 'in blazing offense,'" Ben says, absently reaching upwards to trail his fingers down Rey's spine as she stands beside the leather armchair that his six-foot-three frame is currently squeezed into, "wherein 'blazing' is a metaphor for vigorous, highly visible action."

 

"'Vigorous action,' huh?" Rey waggles her eyebrows at Ben but, in all honesty, the man can't recognize a come-on if it hit him on the nose most days, and _especially_ when he's in the middle of juggling what— even by his prestigious law firm's standards— is a metric _shit ton_ of cases.

 

Rey's feeling neglected, maybe. Just a little.

 

She heads to the bathroom for a quick shower, hurriedly scrubbing away the grime that had accumulated over a busy afternoon at Han's garage where she works as a part-time mechanic while slogging through the blood, sweat, and tears required of a degree in aerospace engineering. By the time she returns to Ben's study in the apartment he had so very awkwardly asked her to move into five months ago, he's on his feet and arguing with someone over the phone. Judging from the terseness of his voice and the way his free hand clenches into a fist at his side, he's talking to Hux, another junior partner at First Order and Ben's perpetual nemesis.

 

Rey parks her bottom on the edge of the mahogany desk pushed up against the wall, careful not to dislodge the stacks of documents carefully arranged on the glossy wooden surface, her bare feet dangling inches from the armchair that Ben had been sitting in earlier. She's wearing a flimsy white camisole and tiny green shorts that hike past her upper thighs, her shower-damp hair gathered into a messy bun, and she doesn't miss the way Ben's brown eyes cut to her figure every so often, even as he devises increasingly more creative ways to call Hux an idiot.

 

"For the last time, _Armitage,_ the prosecution is incapable of showing that Tarkin performed an overt act in furtherance of the aforementioned complicity and _therefore_ he _cannot_ be held guilty as a co-principal by reason of conspiracy— _that_ is our defense, right there. There is simply no need to play amateur hour by trying to discredit the witnesses—"

 

Rey idly watches Ben pace the room. He's long since shrugged out of his black suit jacket and removed his tie, both of which are draped over the back of the armchair, and the sleeves of his crisp white button-down are rolled up, offering a tantalizing view of those thick wrists and those strong, heavenly arms. His dark hair is slightly bedraggled from being raked through in helpless annoyance, and the yearning to mess it up some more with her own hands suddenly overwhelms her. It's been a while since their schedules have synced up like this; they haven't had sex in four days, which, really, is the only justification Rey can give for the pleasant warmth that begins to pull at her abdomen at the sight of Ben being so intense, half rumpled and half put-together, pale brow furrowed as he pushes his square-framed reading glasses up the bridge of his nose.

 

He stalks over to the desk, rolling his eyes at whatever Hux is saying as he consults the document next to Rey's thigh. "Sloane maintains that she only issued the checks to guarantee the obligation, with an agreement that San Tekka shouldn't encash— of _course_ that isn't the point, the point is that Tarkin isn't even a signatory to these checks, I merely wish to emphasize that you're a pitiful sham of an attorney if you can't get your facts straight," Ben snaps, and he's near enough for Rey to catch his scent— sandalwood and pine needles and vetiver, with a hint of coffee— and it sort of makes her swoon.

 

It's when Ben presses a hard, frustrated kiss to her forehead— while still angrily listening to his colleague on the other end of the line— that Rey decides to just _go_ for it. Before he can move away to resume his irate pacing of the room, she catches his hips between her legs, pulling him close to the desk she's sitting on with little effort. His eyes darken as he stares down at her upturned face mere inches from his broad chest, and his hand— the one that had been clenched into a taut fist— relaxes, palming her thigh in a slow caress that makes her shiver.

 

_"Ren?"_ she hears the faint, tinny static of Hux's voice demand. To the rest of the world, Ben is still Kylo Ren, the name he'd taken long ago to distance himself from his family. It's only when he's with Rey that he willingly lets himself be Ben Solo. _"Ren, are you still there?"_

 

Rey holds Ben's gaze as she maneuvers him into the armchair with the long, leanly muscled, very athletic and flexible legs that he'd once told her haunt his dreams. He doesn't actually sit all the way down until she pushes her toes against his chest, and then he catches her ankle in one large hand, pressing his soft lips to the delicate bone before she draws her legs back against the desk front.

 

"You were saying?" he grunts into the phone without taking his eyes off of her.

 

Whatever diatribe Hux next launches into, it's comically obvious that Ben isn't listening, the hunger on his sharp features apparent as he watches Rey run her hands over her breasts, lightly stroking and pinching until her nipples are hard through the thin material of the camisole. She spreads her thighs, slips one hand down her shorts while the other continues playing with her tits. She shivers again at the first brush of her fingers against the lips of her cunt— God, she's already so wet, what with Ben's eyes devouring her like this.

 

He leans forward, his gaze darting wildly from her chest to the hand moving beneath her shorts like he can't decide where to focus on. "I think both arguments have merit," he mumbles into his phone.

 

Rey grins.

 

*

 

Soon she is naked and down on her knees before him, her head bobbing up and down on the long, thick cock that had been hastily released from the fly of his pants. They have, by silent agreement, fallen into a delicious sort of game where he attempts to maintain intelligible conversation with his odious coworker while she does her absolute best to _wreck_ him.

 

Ben's losing, of course. His glasses are askew as he valiantly squints at the file he's gripping so tightly in one hand that it's amazing the paper hasn't torn yet. He and Hux have moved on to the next case, and Ben's fumbling his way through a discussion on frustrated homicide as Rey alternates between licking his cock like it's a popsicle stick and hollowing her cheeks over as much of him as she can comfortably take. Her pace is lazy, erratic— designed to tease rather than to make him come, and she can almost swear there are tears in his eyes.

 

But he's a stubborn one, her Ben Solo. He won't give up without a fight. He clears his throat and schools his voice into a semblance of composure. "Allow me to remind you of the three essential requisites for self defense," he coolly tells Hux. "Unlawful aggression—" Rey swirls her tongue around the tip of his cock before engulfing it between her lips, and his voice cracks— "use of reasonable means to prevent the unlawful aggression—" Her grip tightens around the base of his shaft as her mouth slides further down— "lack of sufficient provocation— _ah, fuck!"_ Ben yelps when Rey starts sucking him _hard._ "Sorry, I bumped into something— anyway, yes, it's pretty clear that it _wasn't_ self-defense, so— God, come back—" he blurts out when she pulls her mouth off of him with a wet _pop,_ dropping the file as he starts and reaches for her in vain, his eyes following her helplessly as she scurries back to the desk. "What? I didn't say that, you misheard," he snarls into the phone. "Give me a second."

 

Ben puts the other lawyer on mute, then focuses all his attention on Rey as she scoots back on the desk's surface, parting her thighs to give him an unobstructed view as she slips her fingers— already slick with her saliva and his precome— into her cunt.

 

"Baby," he rasps, sounding pained, "what are you doing? Come here, please, let me touch you—"

 

"Gotta stretch myself out for you first." She's dripping all over his nice mahogany table, and even on some his meticulously laid-out documents, but they're both past caring at this point. At least from now on he'll read up on torts— or whatever— and think of her. "You're so big, Ben, it's too much for my tight little pussy. You know that, right?"

 

He closes his eyes with a shudder, taking himself in hand to alleviate some of the pressure, and she knows he's imagining it, imagining how he'll split her open, how he'll cram himself into her cunt while she squeals and begs him to be gentle, she's just so _small._

 

Rey's into that, sometimes, but at the moment she's rather in the mood to make _him_ do the begging. "I think Hux is getting antsy," she says sweetly, still fucking herself with her fingers. "Why don't you put him back on?"

 

"You're killing me," Ben mutters with a hint of his trademark sullenness. But he does as he is bid.

 

*

 

Rey straddles Ben on the armchair, her naked body a stark contrast to how he is still in his white shirt and black suit trousers. Whatever he's mumbling into the phone about jury selection soon devolves into a barely stifled, drawn-out moan when she sinks down onto his cock. They freeze, and Rey hears a short silence on the other end of the line before Hux asks something— probably what the matter is.

 

"Not feeling well. Migraine," Ben mutters. He tears his gaze from the sight of his cock disappearing into Rey's cunt to look up at her, silently pleading with her to let him end the call. She shakes her head and softens the blow of her refusal by slanting her mouth over his in a sweet, soothing kiss.

 

Ben sighs against her lips before leaning back in the armchair. "If you truly believe that's the optimal strategy, then do your worst." He's saying this into the phone, but the way his dark eyes narrow at Rey leaves no room for doubt as to whom he's _really_ addressing.

 

Rey sets an achingly slow rhythm at first, clinging to Ben's massive shoulders as she rocks against his hips, letting her body get used to the fullness, the stretch. His mouth hangs open as he stares up at her in reverence, as if committing to memory the wrinkle between her brows and the way her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she's impaled on his thick length.

 

It's so obvious that he doesn't have it in him to remain coherent for much longer. "Tell you what, why don't you walk me through that plea bargain," he says. The hand holding the phone falls limply to the armrest as the vague burble of annoyingly nasal tones emanate from the speaker. Hux will probably talk and talk and talk and not pay much attention to any weird sounds on the other end of the line, now that he has the floor, and Rey feels a swell of pride at how cleverly Ben handled his little problem. Her smart guy, her big hotshot lawyer. She just _has_ to reward him, riding him harder, cooing in his ear as his free hand clutches her hip like it's a lifeline.

 

"You love this, don't you?" she whispers, as breathily as possible. They have to be quiet, _oh,_ so quiet. "You love fucking your hot twenty-one-year-old girlfriend while you talk to your piece-of-shit coworker about your piece-of-shit clients at that law firm you want to burn to the ground." Ben stifles a moan into the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, his hips instinctively thrusting up into her as she drips all over his erection, all over his tailored suit pants. "They don't know how crazy I am for your cock, how I'll do anything for your come, how I love it when you fill me up. They don't know _shit."_ He whines his assent, the sound muffled against her skin as he twitches inside her, already so close to falling off the edge. "Fuck them all," Rey gasps, "and fuck _me,_ right, babe?"

 

With a savage snarl, Ben ends the call, cutting Hux off in the middle of his monologue and tossing his phone aside. Where it lands, Rey doesn't know, doesn't care, because _both_ of Ben's hands are now at her hips and he's bouncing her on his cock while she whimpers and clings to his neck.

 

_In flagrante delicto,_ Rey thinks as Ben pulls her closer to nibble at her throat. _In flagrante._ Even the term itself has a certain decadence to it, she knows it will sound so lush in her mouth if she says it out loud. _In blazing._

 

ii.

 

Rey doesn't quite _think_ she has an exhibitionism kink— not really. Was there a word for being turned on by the _possibility_ of getting caught while knowing full well that _actually_ getting caught will cause her to shrivel up and die from absolute mortification?

 

No, there's probably not a single word that can encompass it or wrap it up into a neat, easily-understood package. Just like how even _love_ feels too simplistic at times to describe the constant hunger and utter all-consuming devotion that exists between her and Ben.

 

She's pretty sure of one thing, though, that has resulted from that little rendezvous in his study two months ago— she's created _a monster._

 

It's the first slow morning at the garage in a while. Han's nipped out for drinks with his old buddy Lando, warning Rey in that cheeky, unrepentant way of his that he probably won't be back until late afternoon. Rey stations herself at the counter and cracks open one of her textbooks as she waits for any prospective customers to come in.

 

After some time has passed, the chimes above the door tinkle and Rey looks up— and breaks out into a huge smile. It's _Ben._ It's her _boyfriend,_ home a day early from his week-long conference abroad and looking oh so handsome in casual clothes— black leather jacket, gray shirt, dark jeans. Rey practically flies into his arms, climbing up his broad frame and peppering his face with little kisses as she wraps her legs around his waist.

 

It's not easy to make Ben smile, but when he finally does, it's against her lips, his hand giving her bottom an affectionate squeeze. "Is the old man around?" he asks once they've broken apart for air, although their foreheads are still pressed together as they breathe each other in.

 

Rey shakes her head. "Your Uncle Lando's back in town and they went on a barcrawl— _Ben, what are you doing?"_ she asks through her laughter as he turns around and walks back to the door and flips the sign to read _CLOSED._ He's supporting her weight with one arm as he does this, and her head swims at this reminder of just how strong he is.

 

A few minutes later, her head is swimming for an _entirely different_ reason.

 

"Are we really doing this outside?" She sounds breathless and dazed even to her own ears, her neck splotched with bruises in the shape of Ben's mouth. He's wrestled her out of her overalls and she's clad only in a ratty yellow T-shirt, white cotton panties, and sneakers as he gets down on his knees in the alley beside the garage.

 

"Yeah." Ben hooks her bare leg over his shoulder. "Someone might see, though," he adds with a smirk, "so you're going to have to be really quiet." He nips at her thigh and she hisses as he sucks another bruise there as well. "But you like that, don't you?" He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the damp crotch of her panties, and she has to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle the moan that emerges. "You like trying to stay quiet."

 

_God,_ she can't believe this is happening, in an alley on a weekday morning. _Anyone_ can walk by and see her boyfriend's head between her legs, it's going to be so _humiliating,_ they're going to think she's such a _slut—_

 

Rey rolls her hips against Ben's mouth, a fresh gush of wetness soaking through her underwear. He nuzzles at her swollen clit in pure bliss, murmuring, "Missed you, missed you so much" as he reaches up to tweak her nipples through her shirt.

 

It's not long before Rey's spine is arching off the brick wall of the alleyway, her hands fisted in Ben's dark hair as he sucks her clit, one hand tugging her panties to the side while the other wedges two fingers into her cunt, pumping lightly and curling against her G-spot at each downstroke. She sobs, a loud sound that rends the morning stillness, and he chuckles, the vibration driving her positively _insane._

 

"Rey. Rey, baby, someone's going to hear you," he tells her in _such_ a low and wicked voice, before diving back in.

 

Her left hand returns to her mouth. That's right, she has to stay quiet, she can't let anyone know what a dirty girl she is—

 

Ben's tongue joins his thrusting fingers. The hand gripping her panties shifts slightly so that he can thumb at her clit. She bites her scream into her palm as she comes.

 

*

 

"This is— payback— isn't it?" Rey gasps out a little while later, her nails scrabbling at Ben's shoulders as he plows her against the alley wall, his jeans halfway down his thighs and both her legs wrapped around him. "For that time— the phone call—" She's no longer capable of forming complete sentences, he's rutting into her so hard, her teeth all but rattling with the force of each thrust.

 

He kisses her neck instead of answering, lapping at the beads of perspiration on her skin with his tongue, but he does slow his pace so that she can muster speech. "Ben," she mumbles tearfully while she's getting fucked, "Ben, someone's going to see— or hear—" Perhaps it's a ridiculous thing to point out when he's already balls deep, but Rey realizes with a _not unpleasant_ little jolt that there's something about the knife's edge between panic and titillation that's putting stars in her eyes.

 

"So let them hear," he growls into her neck, darkly possessive now. "Louder, baby." He speeds up his thrusts once more and the tip of his cock hits her G-spot _just right,_ over and over and over, and her toes are curling in her sneakers and—

 

She screams. Again. He rips that hoarse, wild sound out of her and he doesn't relent, fucking her through her orgasm until he hits his own with a grunt, drenching her inner walls with come.

 

*

 

"I'm so going to get you back for this," Rey snaps at Ben as they leave the alleyway. She's walking a bit funny and, beneath her overalls, she can feel a bit of his spend leaking out of her underwear and down her thighs.

 

Ben opens the door for her, stooping slightly so he can kiss the tip of her nose. "Looking forward to it."

 

"So confident," she grumbles, flouncing back to her station at the counter. "I think you're forgetting that big party your office is having next week."

 

She doesn't need to look over her shoulder to know that Ben has gone pale.

 

**to be continued**

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt me!](https://cyarikas.tumblr.com/ask)


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